


the one that got away

by radovanryn



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Anger, Arson, Axel-Nort, Flashbacks, Gen, Jealousy, Keyblade Master Isa (Kingdom Hearts), M/M, Mental Instability, One-Sided Relationship, Past Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radovanryn/pseuds/radovanryn
Summary: [Master Isa AU] "When there's nothing left to burn, you must set yourself on fire."
Relationships: Axel/Isa (one-sided), Isa/Xigbar (implied), Lea/Isa (past)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18
Collections: Keyblade Master Isa AU





	the one that got away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xigithy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xigithy/gifts).
  * Inspired by [the subtle grace of gravity || keyblade master isa au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780879) by [crowtective](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowtective/pseuds/crowtective), [xigithy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xigithy/pseuds/xigithy). 



> **Please read the warnings before reading this fic!** This fic is dedicated to, and inspired by, Ari ([@xigithy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xigithy/pseuds/xigithy)) and her fabulous Master Isa AU epic, ["the subtle grace of gravity"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780879). If you have not read that, then _stop right now and go go go read it!!!_ This spin-off is loosely set during Chapter 10, with elements borrowed from earlier chapters (especially Chapters 4-5).
> 
> The Master Isa AU is the brainchild of [Nic](https://twitter.com/saixbosom) ([@crowtective](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowtective/pseuds/crowtective) on AO3), and as always, many many thanks for creating this wonderful little playground for us to wreak havoc in. ;) 
> 
> (Summary quotation from the Stars' ["Your Ex-Lover is Dead"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=55FMOJMhV9s), which is maybe the most appropriate song title possible for this story teehee)

There’s a storm brewing on the horizon, ozone thick in the air and heavy on his tongue. Axel’s caked in blood and grime, the proverbial bloodstains of the Organization as it careens towards its inevitable end. _The shit’s about to hit the fan_ , as one of his Somebody’s mothers would say, and if _that_ doesn’t hit him right where his heart—

Axel takes an absent bite of his ice cream, the salty dessert overpowering the lingering taste of nitric oxide and gunpowder. You can’t miss what you’ve never had, which, _speaking of..._

Another bitter bite. The imposter gave him the slip again. Xemnas will not be pleased, but then again, when is he ever? Axel rolls his shoulders, and bends backwards until his spine lets loose several sickening _pops_ , all in a row. Axel’s body _snap-crackles_ like a bonfire, but his limbs feel weak and unformed. Like Icarus, Axel’s flown too close to the sun, chasing sunlight and half-faded memories. He’d gone looking for trouble, and he’d found it.

Even to his own ears, Axel’s quiet laughter sounds crazed. Oh, he’d found it—

( _them_ )

—alright.

Axel slowly makes his way towards the clock tower, ice cream half-melted by the time he steps out onto the ledge. He barely notices, but then again Axel doesn’t feel hungry, hasn’t _felt_ anything— _not really_ —in so, so long…

_Well._ That’s not _entirely_ true, now, is it?

Steam rises from his clenched fists as laughter, childish and carefree, echoes around the corner as Xion and Roxas regale one another with the days’ mischief. Nobodies who can wield keyblades, Axel’s unlikely friends. It’s absurd, and if Axel had the heart to be suspicious he’d think it a cruel joke that he’s been charged with looking out for the pipsqueaks. 

_“Watch over them.”_ That had been Xemnas’s command. _“Guide them towards their true purpose, the destiny that Kingdom Hearts has entrusted to them.”_

Xemnas might be a sanctimonious bastard, but this is hardly the worst assignment he’s handed Axel as of late. In fact, most days it’s an easy gig. Axel eats sea salt ice cream with the kids, he laughs at their jokes, he tells them stories about the worlds and, most importantly, how to survive. When Axel’s with them, it’s easy to relax a little—to pretend that somewhere, deep down, there’s still a little bit of that other guy still inside him. Sometimes it’s good, so good he almost forgets…

But Axel _can’t_ forget. Memories wash over him like kerosene over an open flame, and Axel wants to _scream_. Wants to grab them, both of them—

( _him_ )

—and knock some sense into ‘em. Axel needs to show them this un-life for what it truly is, _pain_ and _rage_ and _betrayal_ that never, _ever_ stops. He wants to watch the innocence fade in their eyes, and the smiles melt off their faces, all the while unable to shed a single tear because _they’re Nothing, can’t feel anything at all..._

If Axel had a heart, he’d probably scare himself. But he _doesn’t_ , so instead he—

_Smolders._

The smoke clears, and Axel blinks pumice from his stinging eyes. His chest hurts in an inexplicable way, and Axel thinks he might’ve _lost it_ for a second or two because he… he doesn’t remember opening a portal to the City That Never Was, and yet, here he is, awash in the ethereal glow of Kingdom Hearts. The Castle looms in the distance, his home-away-from-home for nigh on a decade.

For no reason other than _he can_ , Axel snaps his fingers and a nearby building bursts into flame. Axel watches the blaze with dull amber eyes. He’s got a laundry list of things he needs to do _yesterday_ ; no doubt Saïx is on the lookout for him, clipboard in-hand. Axel’s limbs twitch restlessly. Perhaps he ought to find the puppet, Xemnas’s useless toy, just to remind Saïx of his _place_.

The others might call him Seven, but to Axel he is less than _nothing_. A true Nobody, absolutely no one and nothing. Like a broken mirror, really, and Axel can’t _stand_ how Saïx looks at him, speaks to him like, _like_ —

~~Lea~~

_Pathetic._

Axel hates it, that _thing_ they’d built out of stolen memories and broken daydreams. He pours bitter acid, like tears gone stale with time and enmity, into the borrowed heart that’s been shoved into his chest until it’s solidified into pitch-black obsidian. He hardens himself, so that when he sees Saïx lurking in the halls it’s all-too-easy to pick and prick and rile him up with carefully-chosen words:

_“—all that hard work and all Vexen managed to make was an expensive paperweight.”_

_“—if Xemnas wants to keep garbage around past its expiration date, that’s on him.”_

_“—d’aw, look- he likes you… Suppose somebody was bound to at some point.”_

The sparks from one building leap to the next, another fire set by the coals of the last. Axel supposes he cannot fault the replica, the _fake_ , too much— even if he’ll never admit it. He’s just trying to make sense of it all, to find his true purpose. Axel gets it; he, too, is desperate to hold onto this half-life, this wretched non-existence he built from the ashes of his wasted humanity. Whether ice cream with the half-pints, or senseless derision aimed at Xigbar or Saïx, Axel chases sensation like a rabid dog. Anything, _anything_ to feel alive.

He _used_ to feel alive. 

Axel thinks back to the early days, back when he remembered _feeling_ things. Hope. Longing. Devotion. For _one-thousand and ninety-five days_ he watched the moon and fooled himself into believing Isa was out there, somewhere, searching for him. Lea remembered _love_ and waited, _waited_ for fate to bring them back together like the sun and the moon; destined to meet each other again and again at sunrise.

Then Xigbar—

Axel snarls, teeth bared like a wild, feral thing, only a shade more humanlike than his own slithering Assassins. 

_Xigbar._ Axel oughta _incinerate_ Xigbar. Only Xehanort has stolen more from Axel than the freeshooter, and at least the old man offered Axel a piece of his heart as recompense. It wasn’t enough that Xigbar shattered—

~~Lea~~

—Axel’s final vestiges of hope, forcing him to accept that ‘Lea’ was dead, had _been dead_ for years and nothing—not Xehanort, not Kingdom Hearts, not even that _traitor_ —could take _that_ back. Nor is Axel all that bothered by the way Xigbar’s been skulking around after the puppet, defending Saïx to the Superior and even fooling _it_ into thinking it’s worth a damn. After all, it’s no fun playing with broken toys. 

But Isa. _Isa._ That Xigbar even dared…

( _that Isa accepted…_ )

Axel’s long-accepted that either he or Isa will meet their destruction at the others’ hands. He doesn’t care, _cannot care_ whose hands do the deed, but that’s just the thing, isn’t it? Isa can—Isa should—Isa _must_ care. Isa endlessly troubles Axel’s mind; it’s the least he can do to at least _pretend_ to care. 

_“I_ never _gave up.”_

( _Isa_ used _to care_.)

Axel didn’t believe he could fall any further. He was corrupted long ago, and knows there’s nothing left saving—least of all his body. Yet, it seems there is no end to the depths of this hell, because Isa… _Isa_ is different. Was _supposed_ to be different, at least, and Axel hadn’t even known he’d been clinging to that last, tiniest shred of hope until it was ripped from him, along with everything else.

Axel supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, Isa’s got a nasty habit of forgetting all about him.

The fire burns uncontrollably, windows shattering and wood crackling as building after building is consumed. Embers flicker and fly as they are spat out into the dark skies above. Axel’s no keyblade wielder, is so far from _worthy_ it’s laughable, but this— _this_ is what he offers Kingdom Hearts. 

Not _hearts_ , but _cinders_.

And yet, Axel feels like he’s choking, deprived of oxygen despite the wide open expanse that surrounds him. Like a gutted candle, there’s precious left for him— _of him_ —to burn. The darkness is suffocating, its inky essence smothering his flames until nothing remains except coals and ash. The darkness converges, and Axel lets it carry him, like smoke on the wind, to Castle Oblivion.

The castle gleams white, pristine and pure, and Axel hates this, too. Much to his chagrin, the Dusks cleared out all the debris and bloodstains ages ago. He’s so hard-up for victories lately, why not let him relive the glory days of the not-so-recent past? How’s a Nobody like him supposed to get _this_ memorized without little reminders, like where Vexen cowered, or where Marluxia tried to eliminate him—Axel, the Organization’s _original_ botched experiment.

(After all, _Saïx_ isn’t alone in his failure to become Isa’s dark equal. Another truth, another lie Axel will never admit to.)

Scowling, Axel prowls the empty halls with no clear destination in mind. He’s under _Top Secret_ orders from Xemnas to turn the castle upside-down, but he’s got no illusions that he’ll _ever_ stumble across the Chamber of Awakening. Instead, he drags his feet from room to room, floor to floor, bracing his fractured obsidian heart against Castle Oblivion’s twisted machinations. By the time Axel staggers across another otherwise-indistinct threshold somewhere on the seventh floor, he feels brittle, matchstick-thin arms trembling as he heaves the great door aside.

Instead of blindingly white walls, he’s assaulted by heavy smoke, thick and cloying. Yet, his lungs do not burn, nor do his eyes water. It’s an illusion, another cruel trick of the Castle. 

Here, in this room, Prydain burns.

If Axel didn’t know any better, he’d think Xemnas is doing this to him on purpose, _torturing_ him like this. Heck, maybe he is. Working with Saïx is bad enough, and Axel can’t remember the last time he woke up to something _other_ than the sound of his own pitiful screams. Now, he’s got an actual _castle_ on his case. 

Axel paces the circle of flames as the memory lashes out at him. He feels the heat, but it’s nothing but a lie—just like Axel. Just like _Isa_ , fake sincerity and pleading expression etched on his unmarred features. Just as Axel remembers.

_“Lea… Axel… it doesn’t matter to me,”_ Isa says. Axel watches _this_ memory play out before his eyes, and wonders how many memories he has left, or if any of them—if _any of this_ —is even real. Or, is _nothing_ real, just smoke and mirrors and lies and deceit? 

Axel’s lost so much, sometimes it’s hard to remember what he ever had to begin with.

_“All that matters is that you’re here. We can go home now.”_

“Home?” Axel laughs, but it’s a frail and hopeless sound. “Don’t go soft on me, pretending you care…”

Axel’s a wasteland, all fiery toxicity and villainy. All Isa’s ever done is leave him behind for greener pastures; first the keyblade, and now _that_ smarmy bastard.

_“I looked for you,”_ Isa insists, reaching out to Axel. In his memory, Axel snarled and pulled away. Now, he edges closer. _“I_ never _gave up.”_

“Liar.” Like a puppet in a play, Axel recites each and every line in turn ( _you didn’t look for me— you didn’t give a_ damn _about me!_ ), waiting for the inevitable moment when Isa falls. When his keyblade shatters into stardust. When Axel realizes—

_...can’t even save yourself._

His words, _Axel’s words,_ are like an echo that haunts him from beyond the grave. Maybe Isa didn’t save himself _that day_ , but he’s risen from the ashes Axel left him in all the better, with a brand new title and a scar that tells his story better than words ever could. Isa ascended, but Axel’s only ever sunk deeper, like Icarus with his melted wings. 

Axel was wrong. Isa _has_ saved himself.

It’s _Axel_ that can’t be saved. Not anymore.

( _Not ever._ )

Axel’s legs give out, and he collapses to his knees like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Even in his memory, Isa looks— _what is that?_ Sorrow? Horror? Guilt? Axel can’t remember what _guilt_ feels like anymore, parasitic heart too consumed by hate and avarice. And _jealousy_ , oh yes. That, too. 

“Look what you’ve done, Isa. Just look at me,” Axel whispers, lips cracked and dry. “Gonna be the death of me, ain’t ya? Not that _you_ ever cared.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.”

Axel blinks; the memory’s gone off-script, the phantom Isa standing with apparent ease. Axel wavers, barely strong enough to hold himself up as Isa looks down on him with sad, yet resigned teal eyes. “I’ve known you since you could barely crawl,” Isa adds, as if Axel—

~~Lea~~

—doesn’t already know. “You were my first kiss, my first lo—”

“ _Don’t._ ” Axel’s on his hands and knees now, vision blurring. He’s so tired, _tired_ of chasing shadows and fighting himself. _His memories._ Wouldn’t it be better, he wonders, if he were just… _empty_? A hollow vessel, as intended? “Don’t even try.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Axel mutters, “you’re not even here.” Axel’s arms shake; he’s close, _so close_ to falling— falling— _falling apart._

The fire fades and the dream ends, until naught but the dreamers remain. Like an ersatz beauty, Isa reaches out to Axel. “Come with me, Lea,” he says. “Leave this place.”

Axel doesn’t have the strength to _lift a finger_ , not that it matters. “Lea’s _dead_ ,” he spits out—clenched teeth like flint, sparks as he speaks. “How many times do I hafta tell you?”

“If he’s dead, then why are you still grieving him? Us?” Isa’s voice is not unkind, yet his words feel as sharp as the blade that stole his heart, all those years ago. “Why are you still afraid?”

“Because…” Axel says again, voice waning with all the words he _can’t_ say. _I think I’m scared, but I can’t remember—_

_I’m scared to death I won’t make it out of here alive—_

_I’m scared to death that you’ll forget me, and_

_I’m scared to death that you won’t even_ care.

Axel blinks to clear his stinging eyes, and suddenly he’s back in the castle. Alone. His chest hurts, unimaginably so. With what little strength he has left, Axel reaches out to the empty space where Isa had stood. It’s an insult to Axel’s fading human memories that their _soirées_ have been reduced to this, to shades and shadows when the _real_ Isa is out there, doing _who knows what_ …

Without him. 

Axel lets his arm fall, and his head hang. He chuckles brokenly. “Figures.”

Suppose he oughta bring Xion and Roxas here sometime, like they keep begging him? Maybe then they’ll get it. They think that by reclaiming their memories they’ll find some semblance of purpose, but Axel knows better. What he wouldn’t give to get rid of these chains of memory that shackle him to the past. To move on and embrace his destiny—his _fate_ —like… like…

The darkness beckons, and Axel gives in. His arms collapse, and he falls face-first— not onto the cold hard floor of Castle Oblivion, but the bed of ash that’s become his mattress, ensconced deep within the Castle that Never Was. Axel can barely keep his amber-and-emerald eyes open as he takes in the scorched disaster that is his Proof, so damaged that the Dusks have given up on fixing it. His grimy, bloodstained fingers leave traces of soot on the still-pristine floor, a subtle reminder that Axel was here. 

_Inside people’s memories, I can live forever._

As his eyes slip shut, Axel—

_Lea_

_—_ whispers:

“Don’t forget me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for a special anniversary collection for [Ari](https://twitter.com/xigithy) and [Kait](https://twitter.com/uultima_), two of my dearest friends and some of the most talented and kindhearted folks I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. I also want to thank [Robin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotanironwall) for being the best project co-conspirator and beta-reader I could ever ask for! ilu all.
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, then please consider leaving a kudos or a comment, or you can head on over to my twitter [@radovanryn](https://twitter.com/radovanryn) and let me know what you thought! You can also find exclusive content unavailable on AO3, as well as fic previews and other KH-related excessiveness over on twitter. Thanks for reading, and be well. <3


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